


Plowshares

by PrairieDawn



Series: Welcome to 1951 [14]
Category: MASH (TV), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/pseuds/PrairieDawn
Summary: The painful process of beating swords into plowshares begins.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock, Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Series: Welcome to 1951 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1033128
Comments: 184
Kudos: 125





	1. In Which Eleanor Roosevelt negotiates with the Klingon Empire

Jim lay on a biobed in Sickbay, chest burning and crawling from a deep regen treatment intended to break up scar tissue in his chest cavity. He hated the inactivity, especially when the absence of Bones' grumbling and Spock's frequent visits to update him on ship's status was so conspicuous. His comm chimed. "Go ahead," he said, taking advantage of M'Benga's willingness to let him keep it on his person.

"Five Klingon vessels on long range scans. ETA fifteen minutes."

"Dr. M'Benga, I need out of this contraption." He steeled himself for an argument. Instead, the doctor walked directly to his side, examined the readouts on the biobed, and turned off the device. "You will need to return for another hour of treatment as soon as your duties allow."

Kirk collected his clothes. "Whenever that is," he said, pushing his luck a little.

M'Benga just smiled. "As soon as if is feasible for you to be relieved, I expect you to return. I have a secret accomplice."

"I outrank everyone on the bridge."

"Not everyone." M'Benga left him alone to finish dressing. He swung by the newly minted Earthtoo Ambassador's headquarters and tapped the access panel.

The door slid open at his touch, having been left unlocked. "Come in, Captain Kirk," the voice within said.

He took a couple of steps into the room. Mrs. Roosevelt was seated at the desk in a dark blue woolen skirt and jacket. "Just working on my column for the morning's paper," she said, turning off the datapad she had been issued. "I do enjoy the convenience of being able to speak my words and see them in print, but it took some time to learn how to make corrections."

Jim smiled broadly. "I'm glad you're getting along well, Mrs. Roosevelt. I need you to come to the bridge with me immediately."

"All right, what's the emergency?" She was already standing, tucking the datapad into her pocketbook and checking her hat with a gloved hand.

"The Klingons are back."

"Oh my, let's get a move on, then." She preceded him out the door but paused to allow him to lead her to the turbolift. Once they were moving, she turned to him with sharp eyed intensity. "I'm no starry-eyed girl in awe of your advanced technology. You can count on me to keep my head."

"I'm glad to hear it." She reminded him of Edith, he realized a little sadly, or perhaps the woman Edith might have become had she been granted the chance to grow old. Sadly, even if Edith's life had been allowed to continue, she would have died shortly after the United States fell to the Axis powers in 1948 of the damaged timeline. He had viewed the recordings gathered from the Guardian some months after they had left. 

Roosevelt faced straight ahead in the turbolift, her mouth a little tight around the corners with what he assumed was determination. The door slid open onto the bridge. "What's our ETA on the Klingon ships?" he asked, at the same time gesturing Mrs. Roosevelt to a seat at one of the auxiliary stations.

"Three minutes," Chekov told him.

He nodded in Roosevelt's direction. "You've all met Ambassador Roosevelt." Quiet greetings were exchanged. Jim pulled up the list of known hostages on his datapad, the latest statistics on the damage and loss of life on Earth, and the statistics on the approaching Klingon vessels. The ships dropped out of warp all at once, surrounding the Enterprise.

Despite the Organian prohibition on weapons use, it was impossible not to feel intimidated by the appearance of five Klingon heavy cruisers from five different houses, none of them bearing the standard of House Arok. Heavy cruisers Tereshkova and Bonhomme Richard weren't due to arrive for another six hours.

Kirk sat rod straight in the captain's chair. Where the hell were the House Arok ships? He knew from the few messages Spock had relayed in the day and a half since he'd returned to his ship that the ship Spock was on had been attacked, that they had been beamed to another ship, and that they were being held in a group of seventeen prisoners, 2 of whom, Lavrentiy Beria and King George VI, had died. "Hail them," he said. 

"Aye, Captain," Uhura replied calmly.

"This is Captain Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise. This planet is under our protection."

The viewscreen flickered and revealed the smug face of Kor. "Captain Kirk, what a delight to see you again. This is Klingon space. Leave."

"The citizens of Earthtoo have some of your people in custody. We'd like to negotiate a trade for the hostages your people took."

Kor spat on the deck. "We took no one. House Arok is no longer a part of the Empire. Tell the humans to execute the traitors and save us the trouble."

Well, there was a wrench in his plan. He shouldn't have been so surprised by that development, though. Had his injury damaged his ability to think tactically? He tried a different approach. "We know you have the hostages. You wouldn't be holding them if you didn't want something."

Kor's lips twitched. "We want acknowledgment of our claim to the planet, its resources, and its population. And we want you to leave."

"Surely you can understand our vested interest in a planet that is in all important respects our own."

"Conquering it should prove particularly entertaining," Kor sneered. He cut the comm.

Jim turned away from the screen, acutely aware of Spock's absence from his station. "Gentlemen, we knew from the start we were in for a long day. We need to show we're willing to negotiate in good faith and give them an opportunity to do the same."

"Why do they want Earth?" Mrs. Roosevelt prompted quietly.

"It's inside their territory according to the existing treaty. They've got an axe to grind with the Federation and your world is the ancestor of the Federation. They're violent."

Her expression told him that was not the correct answer. "Don't forget that they're hungry," Mrs. Roosevelt said.

"What?" Jim snapped.

The look she gave him reminded him of his Academy history professor. "I'm not a stupid woman. I pay attention and I read intelligence reports when they are provided to me. These Klingons, they moved to control only two places: Major seats of government and meat packing plants. A look at their teeth tells me they probably need to eat a lot more meat than we do, and the only thing they took in any quantity, from the day they arrived, was food. Mostly animal protein."

Jim tapped his upper lip with his knuckle, lost in thought. It was hard to connect the Klingons are just plain bastards part of his brain with the nobody should ever go hungry part of his brain and the cognitive dissonance was giving him a headache. "So you're saying that the way to win their hearts is through their stomachs?"

"You could say that," she said. "Help us feed ourselves and them, and you might have a chance at that lasting peace those meddlesome pretenders to godhood promised."

"If the Klingons can be reasoned with," Jim said dubiously.

"Well, with an attitude like that it's no wonder you can't get along. Open that channel-thing." She waved a hand at Uhura.

"Channel-thing open," Uhura replied cheerily.

Kor appeared on screen. Eleanor navigated her way confidently down the steps to the center of the bridge. "Mr. Kor."

Kor put on an air of boredom. "And who are you?"

"Ambassador Eleanor Roosevelt of Earthtoo. Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we? First, as to the criminals we are holding for your convenience, I believe that proof that you have severely punished them for their actions would do a great deal to improve your position in any future negotiations. You, on the other hand, have no need to keep hostages kidnapped by criminals. Returning the hostages would serve to distance you from House Arok in the minds of Earth's people."

"How many _criminals_ are you holding?" Kor asked.

"So far as we are presently aware, there are ten who were taken into custody before angry citizens could tear them limb from limb with their bare hands." She smiled sweetly.

"You may have five hostages."

"Ten."

"Five. My final offer."

"I will choose which five," she insisted.

Kor smiled unkindly. "I will choose."

She cocked her head. "You are holding a pair of physicians. They will choose."

Kor grimaced, but nodded. "Acceptable. We will make the exchange in seventy-four minutes." He cut the link this time.

Roosevelt turned to Jim. "Seventy-four minutes?"

"One Klingon hour-equivalent. The Universal Translator makes the conversion."

"I should have realized. I made the decision I believed most likely to result in the return of the children. Your medical officer, I have heard you and Dr. M'Benga speak quite highly of him. Can he be trusted to make a wise decision, even if it pains him to do so?"

"Bones? I've seen him do it more times than I'd like to remember." He sighed and scrubbed at his face with one hand. "Thank you. I've had dealings with Kor before and our mutual dislike wasn't helping matters."

"So I could see, Captain. Dr. M'Benga insisted that I ensure you return to sickbay to see to your ongoing treatment. I have been instructed to return as well to be treated for, what was it? Latent tuberculosis, I believe."

"I have a lot to do, Mrs. Roosevelt. Please send the doctor my regrets."

"Oh, you wouldn't turn down the chance to escort a lady, I might get lost on my way to Sickbay. Besides, you wouldn't want to disappoint such a nice man as Dr. M'Benga, would you?"

Jim sighed his defeat, took her arm chivalrously, and walked her to the turbolift, ignoring her triumphant smile and the chuckling of his disloyal bridge crew.

*

BJ crouched near the door to their cell to examine Gesh's swollen face and shoulder. He suspected a dislocation, and it worried him that the Klingon could not open his left eye. Their fellow prisoner had taken a more aggressive stance after Bones' was returned, getting into loud arguments with their captors and, most recently, attempting to block them from dragging General Ridgway off for interrogation. They had beaten him savagely for his trouble and taken the general anyway.

Bones sat propped in the corner of the cell, wrapped in layers of clothing donated by the other prisoners and flanked by Spock and Svetlana. BJ had managed a brief neurological exam a couple of hours before and had been reassured to see some improvement, though the doctor had barely stirred since yesterday and had kept down only water. Spock hadn't left his side for more than a few minutes in all that time.

The door to their cell clanged, then slid open. BJ stood, expecting to need to catch Ridgway. The general staggered on being shoved through the door and held on to BJ's arms for balance, but let go in a moment to stand, swaying, on his own feet. There was someone with their guards BJ didn't recognize, someone whose uniform carried a lot more decorative weight. "Human," he said in gruff, accented English. "Five prisoners are to be released. You will choose."

"Why me?" BJ asked.

"The Ambassador wanted the doctor to choose. I will return soon." He turned on his heel. The guards shut them all back into their cell.

Five hostages to be released. Five. It wasn't a hard decision at all, really. BJ looked around the small room. "Charlie and Annie, Elizabeth, Svetlana, and Maggie."

"Don't be sexist," Maggie said. "I'm staying. I'm young, healthy, and I'm a war correspondent. Attlee needs to be free to negotiate for Great Britain."

"Elizabeth can do that for me," Attlee protested.

Elizabeth noted, "You are injured and hold real power. My role is symbolic. Without question, we send the children, Svetlana, and the Prime Minister. As to the fifth, I leave that decision to Dr. Hunnicutt, but I suggest we send McCoy."

"The Soviet Union remains without leadership," Malenkov said. "I should be sent back to represent us."

Elizabeth fixed him with a withering gaze. "I have already suggested we send the most competent Soviet in the room to represent you."

BJ surveyed the room to make sure he hadn't missed anyone, then acknowledged Elizabeth's suggestion with a nod. "I agree we should send Bones. If only because he's too sick to argue with me."

Bones glared at him from his nest of rags. "Not that sick. I'll recover."

"Spock, is he telling the truth?"

Spock stirred long enough to slip long fingers around Bones' wrist. "Technically yes, but he is currently in considerable distress and if a second attempt is made to interrogate him, the likelihood of permanent damage is unacceptably high."

"I won't go," Bones mumbled.

"The decision will be out of your hands if you are rendered unconscious," Spock said mildly.

"I think you're getting way too free with that nerve pinch, Elrond."

Spock tilted his head, emphasizing his patented eyebrow of disdain. "I fail to see why I would find that comparison insulting." He caught sight of Ridgway weaving his way to the nearest wall and made his own awkward way over to the general to confer with him quietly.

Bones turned slightly to watch him go, then cradled his head in his hands, eyes screwed shut against pain or nausea, BJ wasn't certain, but his expression cemented his decision to send him with the children. 

"You're going with Svetlana, Clement, and the kids," BJ said firmly.

Bones grumbled into his lap, "Yeah, well, fuck you sideways."

*

There were only so many people who could fit in a transporter room, and M'Benga insisted on being there with a nurse, a medtech, and a gurney. Jim squeezed in only by promising to follow instructions exactly and by pulling rank on Houlihan, who paced just outside the door. They had not been briefed by the Klingons on who was coming through or what condition they would be in on arrival. 

He could see two standing figures and a third seated beside them. The figures resolved into a middle-aged man with a bandaged face holding an infant, a young woman holding a wide eyed blond toddler, and Bones, curled on the floor, retching. Jim and M'Benga went for Bones first. Bones shook his head and rasped, "The baby, Geoff. Look at her first."

M'Benga moved away from the two of them. "I didn't get a vote, Jim," Bones grumbled. "Damn stubborn Vulcan threatened to nerve pinch me if I didn't go."

Jim tried to help Bones to his feet and found himself supporting his friend's full weight. "Get him on the gurney, we can carry the baby," M'Benga said. "Everyone gets checked out in sickbay."

Jim jogged along beside the gurney, aware that he ought to be attending to their other guests. Houlihan stuck to the side of the gurney as soon as it emerged into the hallway, her hands roving over his arms and chest as though she was reassuring herself that he was alive and real. Bones' arm was thrown up over his eyes against the light. "What happened to you?" Jim said, a little too loud apparently, because Bones scrunched up his face in pain. 

"Mind sifter. Forgot my goddamn training. Shouldna fought it. Couldn't help it." They piled into the turbolift.

"I'm assuming Spock is better off than you?"

"He's fine. You know him. Mind sifter slid off him like he was in a damn bell jar."

The left doors opened and they rolled into sickbay. M'Benga reached over them to run a scanner over Bones. "He's not emergent. Get him to a biobed." The doctor hurried away to settle other patients. 

Houlihan looked up long enough to catch Jim's eye. "Transfer on three."

Jim nodded, having been pressed into medical service often enough to know how to move a patient. Houlihan counted, Jim lifted, and they settled Bones onto the biobed. The doctor was pale around the lips and smelled of sweat and worse things, but he was alive. 

Houlihan's hand dropped heavily onto his shoulder. "Move!"

Jim got out of her way before she decided to deck him. She bent over the biobed, took Bones' face in her hands, and kissed him until he had to pound on the bed for air. A twinge of mixed jealousy and envy pinched his chest, but he had neglected being a captain in favor of being a friend for too long already. 

He walked with purpose to the other end of sickbay, where a young, dark haired woman cradled a baby a little older than Erin in her arms while M'Benga adjusted the child's IV. "Who do we have here?" he said, knowing the identity of the only infant on the hostage list, but unsure of who the woman was. M'Benga answered, "Svetlana Alliluyeva and Princess Anne. Lana just needs food, water, and rest. Anne is more seriously dehydrated and has picked up a touch of pneumonia, so I want her to stay overnight."

M'Benga moved on to the next biobed, this one occupied by the little boy, who was sitting with the quiet watchfulness that was easy to mistake for obedience when it really indicated trauma. "Prince Charles," M'Benga said. "He's got a pretty significant concussion on top of the other trauma. I'm continuing the neurostabilizers and keeping him here with his sister."

He patted the child's hand before moving to the next bed. "Prime Minister Attlee. McCoy did a good job of repairing the facial injury and he's otherwise in good health, all things considered." 

"Princess Elizabeth ordered me to take her place in order to participate in the negotiations," Attlee complained. "Despite my loathing for leaving my princess in jeopardy, she and your Vulcan friend convinced me of the logic of her position."

"How is he?" Jim asked.

"Spock? As well as can be expected, I suppose. He's not an easy man to read."

"By design," Jim agreed. "I'm sure Ambassador Roosevelt is waiting to speak to you. As soon as Dr. M'Benga lets you out of here, we need to discuss next steps. For the moment I need an update on my CMO's condition."

He moved over to Bones' bed. Margaret sat beside him, stroking his hair. He seemed to have fallen asleep, so Jim was loathe to wake him. He caught M'Benga's elbow to drag him a few steps away. "How bad is it?"

M'Benga folded his arms and took a moment to look at the floor, clearly composing himself. "The mind sifter is a brutal piece of equipment. There's a reason why the damn thing isn't legal to use in the Federation even though we've had the specs for it since the Klingon War." M'Benga, unlike Bones, wasn't a man given to profanity. The fact that he would use it now gave Jim a clue how much M'Benga despised the device. The doctor scrubbed at his forehead. "It's like--it's a crude mechanical mimicry of telepathy, boosted with positron emission analytics. Even a forced meld doesn't leave the kind of indiscriminate damage that thing can."

It took all of Jim's discipline to keep his last meal down. After Spock's brief encounter with the device years ago, he hadn't appeared to have suffered ill effects. But then, if Spock could hide injury, he would, especially during a mission. "Will he recover?"

"He's well on the way to self-repair--human minds are pretty resilient, all things considered--and it looks like Spock helped him along some. His fingerprints are all over Len's neuroscan. For now, he needs rest." He sighed heavily. "It's the emotional trauma I'm most concerned about. Each of the three of you has had half a dozen experiences any one of which would have grounded most other officers. You and Spock have your bond to stabilize each other, but Leonard doesn't and if that man isn't a magnet for psychic tampering I'll eat my medscanner. We're all going to have to pay close attention to his health for the next few months, especially you and Spock."

"Thanks for assuming I'll be getting Spock back." He found his eyes tracking back to Bones and Margaret. 

"She wants to stay with him," M'Benga said. "Long term."

Jim smiled. "I'm not surprised. You think you can get her up to speed enough to serve as a corpsman?"

"She's motivated and smart. I think she'll pass the Starfleet nursing exam before the end of the mission--she'll make corpsman by the end of the week."

"That's something I can do for them, then. I'll put in a reassignment request to her CO as soon as I've talked to Bones about it. Can I take Attlee with me? I'd like him to have a chance to read over the dossier and talk with Roosevelt before our reinforcements arrive."

"Go ahead. I'll brief Houlihan on Len's condition." 

"Let me know immediately when he wakes up." 

"Wouldn't think of doing anything else," M'Benga said, not quite rolling his eyes. Jim gestured to Attlee, who hopped off the biobed and followed him out the door, his head swiveling from side to side as he took in his surroundings.

"Marvelous," he said. "Truly marvelous."


	2. In which a letter arrives from Korea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earthtoo and the Federation negotiate with Kor for the release of the remaining hostages.

Hawkeye poked his head in the door to Peg's room. She was curled up on top of the covers, asleep or pretending to be. With his whole being he wanted to lie down on the bed behind her, tuck his knees behind hers and her back to his chest, but he hadn't yet earned that right. Instead, he stood just inside the door. "Peg?" he said, just above a whisper.

"I'm tired."

"You've been sleeping most of the day."

"What do you expect, I don't sleep at night." She sat up, facing away from him, straightened her skirt, and walked around the bed in her stocking feet to stand beside him with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes cast down to his shirt buttons. 

He held up the paper rectangle he'd run up the stairs to deliver. It still smelled faintly of mildew, sweat, and gin. "There's a letter here for you."

"Here? How?"

"It's from BJ. From Korea."

She reached for it, but her fingers stilled on the envelope. "I don't know if I can."

He sat on the bed and patted the space beside him. Peg perched beside him, leaving a handspan of space between them. He opened the letter and handed it to her. "It's yours to read, not mine."

"Can I read it to you?"

Hawkeye shrugged his acquiescence, though he knew which letter this was and had never thought that he might have to be present when it was read.

Peg unfolded the letter, licked her lips, and began.

> **My dearest Peg,**
> 
> **I hope this letter finds you safe. It has been a busy and difficult week for Hawkeye and me, but there have been some bright spots. Yesterday a helo carrying refuse from the camp suffered an accident and dumped its entire load over a visiting Colonel. I suppose we shouldn’t laugh about another’s misfortune—scratch that, this was most definitely misfortune worth laughing about.**

> **It's strange being here without you when the whole world is changing. I want to ask you what you think, how you feel about it all--whether it changes how you feel about Erin. About me. I know it makes me want to wrap you both up in my arms and never let you go.**
> 
> **I finally got around to reading Last of the Mohicans. I think you’ll love it if you get the chance.**

She paused to chew her lip. "Don't think that means I'm going to hop right into bed with you," she warned, sniffling a little. 

"Thought never crossed my mind," Hawkeye said, catching the thought before it could finish crossing and stomping it into the ground. 

"So what happened with the helicopter full of trash?"

"Well, there's this Colonel none of us can stand--for good reasons I don't want to talk about. So Radar and I went through an entire load of trash to make sure it was suitably gross--"

"Wait, you touched garbage on purpose? You must have really hated this guy."

"Not quite enough to brain him with a brick though, so Radar and I cleared anything really dangerous out of the garbage, loaded it up, and gave it to a helo pilot who owed us a big favor."

"What kind of a favor?"

"Bones cured his diabetes."

"That's quite a favor." After a moment to compose herself, Peg flicked the letter and continued.

> **There was a rare clear night last night. Hawkeye and I had a few minutes to look up at the stars. They don't look that different to me--I suppose that comes of growing up in San Francisco where the night sky gets washed out by the city lights. Orion is almost the same, but some of the other constellations are unrecognizable, at least according to Hawkeye. He says the whole thing gives him the creeps, and I don't blame him.**
> 
>  **I'm proud of the work we're doing here, but I wish the whole war didn't feel so futile to me. Especially now. I miss you and Erin so much I can taste it. I can't wait until I can kiss you and hold you again.**
> 
>  **Yours until the end of the world--and after,**
> 
> **BJ**

"Short letter," she said.

"Every time we thought of something to say it was classified. Couldn't talk about Jim and Spock and Bones. Couldn't mention what we knew about the invasion--"

"You knew? How much did you know?" She turned to him, knowing that neither of them could have said anything to her, but feeling shocked and betrayed regardless.

"We found out that day. About the Klingons, when they were most likely coming and some of where. Enough to know we probably weren't going to live long enough to make it home. Radar had just told BJ that he'd sent you here and why, but we didn't know for sure that you'd gone."

Peg folded the letter with care and tucked it back into the envelope. "I got to have BJ back for one day. One. What if that's all I get?"

"Then you and I will spend the rest of our lives telling Erin all about what a wonderful man her Daddy was." He realized he was assuming a right he didn't have again, and added. "I'll send letters from Maine."

"Don't." She turned to face him, her face too close to his to be platonic.

"I don't want you to kiss me out of a sense of obligation, Peg."

"Oh, don't even." She leaned forward to barely brush her lips against his. "These lips touched his."

He pressed a light kiss to the corner of her mouth, to her nose, to her forehead. "His lips were here," Hawkeye murmured. "and here," he returned to sample her lips again, "and here," three along the line of her jaw until he saw the fading mark at her collarbone. "Well, now, they were definitely here." He unbuttoned the top button of her blouse and nosed his way in to graze the spot reverently.

Her hand trailed down his back, then gripped and pulled him closer, so that she slid up onto his lap. Her movement brought her breast up so that his fingers passed over it, the nipple stiff even through her bra. She gasped and ground down onto him and he froze. "Wait."

"What?"

Hawkeye shook his head and set her back on the bed, a little away from him. "For him. Until we know for sure."

"What? That he would want this?"

"No. One way or another, we'll know soon whether he's coming home."

She curled her knees to her chest. "I can make my own decisions."

"So can I. But I think right now, with everything going on, if we do this now and--" He drew a ragged breath. "If we do this now and God forbid he doesn't come home--" He couldn't make himself finish.

"You'll blame yourself. You know that's not how reality works, right?"

"I know." He stood up to scrub his hair and pace the bedroom.

"You're a superstitious fool, Hawkeye Pierce."

He stopped his pacing to face her. "I don't want to be a night's comfort you need to forget in a week. I want more than that, with both of you if I can have it. And I can't believe I'm saying this but I'm willing to wait."

"Greedy." She pressed her teeth into her bottom lip in a gesture that managed to look anxious and provocative at once.

"Maybe I am. Come downstairs for a little while. It would ease Edna's mind to see you up and around."

Peg stood and stretched. "Fine, fine. I'll come downstairs and watch you ogle the handsome starship captain."

"Hey!"

"I do not ogle married men," Hawkeye protested.

"Try again."

"I don't ogle men married to men who are three times stronger than me and read minds."

Peg slapped him on the behind on their way out the door. "Could have fooled me."

*

It had been a week since the Organians had effectively ended the Klingon invasion of Earthtoo and fires were still burning in several cities. A faint, muddy haze was smeared across the entire globe, more thickly in the northern hemisphere than in the south. A wedge of Klingon ships occupied the space between the planet and its moon, facing off against the Federation vessels, including the recently arrived mercy ship Nightingale, which was carrying Federation representatives as well as medical supplies.

Jim stood by the shuttle bay doors in his dress uniform, involuntarily recalling the last time his ship hosted a major diplomatic conference. At least this time any major medical crises could be handled by the mercy ship. Eleanor Roosevelt waited just behind him in a somber gray dress with pearls and a simple hat, looking far more poised than Jim felt.

The doors opened, admitting Ambassador April and Jim's in-laws. Roosevelt stepped forward to accept a handshake and some historically motivated praise from April, who studiously mentioned none of her accomplishments occurring after April of 1951. She turned to offer a precise _ta'al_ and greeting in Vulcan to Sarek, earning an impressed eyebrow raise. "I am so very grateful to you both for arranging your schedules to come on such short notice," she told them. "And I look forward to working with you both." She turned to Amanda. "You must be the Lady Amanda. I hope that we are able to negotiate the release of your son soon. You must be dreadfully worried."

"Spock gets himself into this kind of trouble on a regular basis. Though I admit I usually find out about it after the fact." Amanda turned to Jim and surprised him with a tight hug. "It's good to see you, son."

"It's good to see you, too." He saw April pull Roosevelt aside, presumably to discuss the situation in more detail. Jim pulled away from Amanda enough to call after them, "Remember, we're meeting with the Klingon representative in two hours."

"Oh I remember," she said, her tone suddenly brittle. She allowed April to take her arm and lead her away, 

Once all the ambassadors had left the room, Amanda took Jim by the arm. "And how have you been holding up?"

"As well as can be expected," he evaded.

"That's the kind of answer I expect from my son. I count on you to keep me posted on what's really going on."

"We don't have much to bargain with. The Klingons want the strategic position and resources of the planet--though they may be less interested now that it's under Organian protection. We don't have the authority to give that to them and after what's gone on down there I can't imagine the Earthtoo governments are going to want to give them anything but the boot."

"We'll see. My husband is quite skilled at identifying the common ground between even the most antagonistic parties." She sighed. "Except where his own son is concerned."

Jim smiled, wistful. "They seem to have mellowed toward each other lately."

Amanda chuckled. "They have. I'm pretty sure that's your influence on the both of them. Sarek may not be particularly demonstrative, but he thinks you hung the stars."

Jim saw his mother in law to the VIP suite, allowed himself to be convinced to take a cup of tea with her, then made further preparations for the negotiations. He hoped he might see Spock before the day was out.

*

Spock rose from his meditations to note that six of his fellow prisoners had joined him. Only Ridgway, his lieutenant, and Malenkov remained aloof, Malenkov sleeping and the other two not so subtly keeping watch. Ridgway had coped the residual effects of the mind sifter by putting them all on a rigid schedule that had done as much for morale as the opportunity to communicate with the outside world did. Upon returning to Earth orbit, he and Jim were close enough to communicate without the aid of binary codes and so had taken over the updates, allowing O'Reilly badly needed rest.

The Klingon in their midst, Gesh, caught his eye for an instant before resolutely focusing on the opposite wall. Ridgway and Attlee had insisted from the beginning that he not be harmed. He had instead been largely shunned by all concerned. Despite that fact, Gesh had taken advantage of every opportunity to make himself useful. He had also been subtly following along with their schedule from his place beside the door: Spock's twice daily guided meditations, Princess Elizabeth's French lessons, Lieutenant Bradley's calisthenics, Maggie's war stories.

There was no dignified or subtle way for Spock to move without the aid of crutches, so he scooted along the floor to sit a meter from the Klingon. "Why are you here?" he asked without preamble.

"My honor conflicted with that of my house," he said.

"Elaborate."

Gesh stiffened. "I am not your prisoner."

"Granted. The principle negotiating parties are aware of your presence among us. I intend to insist upon your transfer to Federation custody for trial."

There was a long silence. Gesh looked away into a corner of the cell. "Why?"

Spock answered simply. "You will be executed if you remain in Klingon custody."

"I am prepared to die."

Spock nodded acknowledgment. "I am not prepared to be responsible for a death I may be able to prevent."

The Klingon's expression hardened as he met Spock's eyes. "I prefer to die rather than rot in a Federation prison."

They sat beside each other in silence for several minutes. Malenkov glared at him from the other side of the cell. Spock stared back coldly and the man turned his face to the wall. "Why do you help your fellow prisoners even though they despise you?"

Gesh was silent for a considerable time before meeting Spock's eyes, his expression softening more than it had in their captivity so far. "Being dishonored does not excuse one from right action. I have failed in my duty once. I will not do so again." And that, Spock thought, was why allowing this young Klingon to be murdered for belonging to a dishonored house was illogical in the extreme.

*

The Earthtoo and Federation delegates assembled half an hour early in order to discuss strategy before Kor's arrival. Jim made a point of ensuring all was in order from the secured data pads, to the refreshments, to the four carefully selected security officers stationed two to each door. Ambassadors April and Roosevelt were already present along with UN representative Tsiang Tingfu, who had also been in Geneva and whom Roosevelt had recommended to represent China. Once he was sure everything was in order, he thanked the young steward and returned to the transporter room to await those who were not already aboard. Chekov arrived with Ms. Alliluyeva, the two of them talking quietly together in Russian. The young woman was dressed not dissimilarly to Mrs. Roosevelt, though she wore dark green instead of Roosevelt's somber gray. 

Clement Attlee and Harry Truman arrived together. Truman moved immediately to clasp Alliluyeva's hands. "I am so sorry about your father, Lana."

She nodded, lips pressed together grimly. "He was as good to me as he knew how to be, but in the interest of lasting peace it is for the best. Father was a hard man, and not well."

"Are you ready for this?"

"I will represent the Soviet Union to the best of my ability. I have good reason to believe that our peoples can build friendship as a part of this Federation." She tipped her head at Chekov and flashed him a brilliant smile.

Truman took her arm and led her out of the room, chatting pleasantly. Attlee watched them go. "She is very young to represent an entire country," he said.

"Mrs. Roosevelt has been coaching her. I haven't had a chance to meet Tsiang Tingfu.."

"He seems to be taking the situation in stride, all things considered," Attlee said. Jim walked him to the conference room to find that Ambassador Sarek had taken his place at the table as well. He left the diplomats to get acquainted and returned to the transporter room to await Kor. 

In a few minutes, Kor appeared with two others, aides or bodyguards. He stepped off the transporter pad. "Captain Kirk. I see you're still interfering in Klingon business as usual."

"Not by choice, this time," Kirk reminded him.

Kor grunted a grudging acknowledgment. "Exacting revenge on the worldsplitters might be worth an alliance between our peoples. Klingons do not appreciate being used for another species' entertainment."

Jim grimaced. "I assure you, neither do we."

And on that point of agreement, small as it might be, Jim led his adversary into the conference room. Kor took a seat at the table, leaving his companions standing. He placed his elbows on the table, leaning forward to take up as much space as possible. "The position of the Klingon Empire is as follows. The planet Chu'yuv is well within the borders of the Klingon Empire as established by treaty, and as such, the Federation has no claim to it. Its inhabitants are subject to Klingon law and custom."

Ambassador Roosevelt turned to Kor in response. "The position of the planet Earthtoo," she said, emphasizing the name, "Is that we are sufficiently advanced as a civilization to warrant the dignity of self determination. The Klingon Empire has demonstrated its rule to be both brutal and shortsighted to date and, as such, we reject their claim of sovereignty. We also demand the return of all remaining hostages."

"House Arok was not acting on behalf of the Empire, but in their own self-interest, as you well know," Kor replied.

"I am not given to believe that Klingon occupation would be in our best interest," Roosevelt said coolly.

Ambassador April nodded his approval, then took his own turn. "The position of the Federation is that the circumstances surrounding the displacement of a historical duplicate of a Federation core world within the boundaries of the Klingon Empire merit a reconsideration of existing treaties. We believe the boundary should be redrawn to include Earthtoo within Federation space and are willing to consider concessions that do not change the status of other inhabited worlds along the border. We, too, demand the return of hostages, which include eight inhabitants of Earthtoo and one Federation citizen. We consider their return to be a prerequisite for continuing all other negotiations."

Kor addressed Roosevelt directly, ignoring April. "We have recorded the trial and execution of the criminals returned to our custody. House Arok is discommended and disbanded, the lives of its members forfeit. Rest assured that the Klingon Empire does not routinely use high yield photon torpedo strikes against planetary targets."

"Routinely," Truman echoed.

"Such hypocrisy, Mr. President, given your prior use of similar devices in the prosecution of war," Kor sneered. "Your planet is disunified, prone to internal squabbling, and unable to govern itself. The firm hand of Klingon rule will assist you in reaching your potential."

"Gentlemen, let us return to the urgent issue of the hostages," Roosevelt interrupted. "The governing bodies of Earth are willing to consider no relationship of any kind with the Klingon Empire until all hostages are returned as a sign of good faith." She turned to Kor directly. "The hostages provide you with no leverage in these negotiations and serve only as a millstone around your neck. Return them and we can begin these talks in earnest."

Kor considered for a long moment. "Very well, the inhabitants of Earthtoo taken hostage by House Arok will be returned as a gesture of friendship, shall we say?"

Shoulders dropped in relief around the table. Sarek added, "Will that include the one Federation citizen among the hostages?"

"The Federation trespasser will be held and tried according to our laws," Kor snapped.

Jim's heart sank. He broke from his role as moderator to shout, "You know as well as I do that Spock wasn't on Earthtoo of his own accord!"

"Captain," Sarek warned quietly. "Kor. I urge you not to scuttle these negotiations out of pettiness."

"Concerned for your son, are you? Hardly logical of you to make have the fate of an entire planet's people rest on his freedom. Tell me, if I were to order his execution as a war criminal would you walk away from this table?"

"I would," Attlee and Alliluyeva said in accidental unison.

Roosevelt nodded agreement. "I know nothing of Commander Spock's actions or character, save what appears in official reports. However, threatening his life out of what appears to be nothing more than spite does not make me confident that you are negotiating in good faith. If indeed he is a war criminal as you say, provide evidence of this and our international court will try him for his crimes."

Kor settled back in his chair. "I could simply walk away from the table myself. Perhaps the real Soviet government would offer me better terms."

"I assure you we would not," Alliluyeva snapped.

"You're enjoying this!" Jim accused. "You get to be the center of attention and play your games while billions of people suffer for what your Empire did!"

"Not my Empire!" Kor roared, rising to his feet. "Wakod was scum. I take no pleasure in cleaning up his messes."

"Prove it." All eyes turned back to Roosevelt. "Which is more important to you, your honor, or your ego?"

Kor leaned into the table, attempting to present a menacing appearance before settling slowly back into his chair. He pulled out his comm. "Kadh, remove all of the prisoners from Cell three. Transport them to the coordinates from which we collected the Starfleet men."

There was a pause. "All of them?"

"Yes, all of them. I want confirmation that it is done within twelve minutes."

Roosevelt poured herself a glass of water. "When we have word that our people are safe, we will continue these negotiations. But not a minute before."

*

Edna peeked in the guest bedroom. Walt was out doing chores and had been since before sunrise, Hawkeye and Peg with him. Ed was asleep, breathing easy and with a bit of color in his cheeks. She popped Erin, who had also been up since sunrise, into the cradle in the living room and started getting breakfast ready. French toast today, she decided. With leftover ham and fried potatoes. She had just finished chopping an onion when Walt came barreling in the back door, opened the door to the kitchen without bringing his muddy feet inside, and said, "We're getting visitors and they're gonna need looking after."

"How many and how soon?" she asked mildly. It was best not to rile the boy up further when he was this excited.

"Minutes I think, and ten of them. It's the hostages!"

"Well thank the Lord! We'll need blankets, clean clothes, and water for them to wash up."

"And hot coffee," he added.

She put aside the breakfast things. "Hot coffee and lemonade and let's see. I'll just put the bread out as it is, with butter and preserves." She hustled into the guest room to pull out a pile of spare blankets, careful not to wake Ed, swung by the couch to set them all down, and peeked out the front door, where Hawkeye and Peg were busy clearing off the picnic tables and flipping checkered tablecloths out onto them. She slipped upstairs to collect some of Ed's clothes and her own, not knowing what sizes she'd need, and was just making her way down the stairs when Peg hurried past her and out the door with two large jugs of ice water and lemonade. Edna set the clothes down beside the blankets, set one foot on the porch and stopped. The air felt like a lightning storm, then the chicken yard filled with gold sparks in the shape of people while a ringing sound filled her ears. There were five, two women and three older men, blinking in the early morning light. They hustled out of the way and another wave of lost souls appeared in their place, and this time her eyes caught on the pair in the front, tall, blond BJ Hunnicutt supporting Commander Spock with an arm around his back.

Spock's crutches were already leaning up against the front steps. Edna bustled over with them in time to see Hawkeye and Peg run over to wrap BJ in their arms, Peg covering him with sloppy kisses which he returned generously. Pleasant as the reunion was, their guests were exhausted, flithy, and hurt. She put her fingers to her lips and blew a wolf whistle that froze everyone where they stood. "Ain't got hot water enough for all of you at once. Ladies first."

She collected one of the two women and helped her up the stairs. "What's your name, dear?"

"Elizabeth," the woman said quietly. 

"All right, Elizabeth, I'm going to take you upstairs to the shower and bring you some clean clothes. They won't fit too well, but they should do for breakfast."

"I am grateful for your hospitality," Elizabeth said in a very proper British accent. Edna followed her up the stairs in case she grew unsteady and showed her how to work the shower controls, then hurried back downstairs.

BJ met her in the doorway. With a gesture up the stairs, he said, "How is her royal highness?"

"Tired I think. She been putting on airs with that accent, has she?"

"Mrs. O'Reilly, now that King George the Sixth is dead, she's the Queen of England." The Queen of England in her house and set to wear one of her threadbare housedresses. Edna found she very much needed to sit down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close to the end!
> 
> (And the whole thing is written now, save a couple of short scene transitions.)
> 
> Questions, comments, speculation?


	3. In which all the reunions happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock returns to the Enterprise. Hawk, BJ, and Peg are sent to the Mercy ship Nightingale for treatment.

When the door to their cell was opened at an hour that did not correspond to their twice daily meals, Spock assumed that he or another of the prisoners was to be subjected to another round with the mind sifter. So far, he had been ignored since the first day, but Malenkov and Elizabeth had followed Ridgway to the interrogation room. Only the Queen had accepted his offer of assistance in the aftermath, Malenkov refusing with derision, Ridgway more apologetically, citing his knowledge of classified information.

Four Klingons entered their cell and ordered them to their feet. Hunnicutt came immediately to Spock's aid, supporting him with his good arm. "Out. All of you," one of the Klingons said.

Spock hopped down the corridor with Hunnicutt's assistance. Ridgway allowed himself to be supported by Maggie Higgins. They were led to a transporter room. "First five." The transporter tech counted them off. Spock and Hunnicutt were among those not selected.

"What's happening?" Maggie said from the transporter pad. 

"Prisoner trade." The tech activated the transporter. Once the first five were gone, the rest were ushered onto the pads, including Gesh. There was a brief argument. "Kor couldn't have meant to send that down."

"He wanted the humans to decide this one's fate. Let them."

Spock fully expected to materialize in the Enterprise transporter room. Instead, he found himself facing the O'Reillies' front porch. Peg and Hawkeye were guiding the prisoners who had preceded them to places at a pair of picnic tables. Spock's crutches rested against one of the beams supporting the porch roof. Edna bustled over to give them to him and he relinquished Hunnicutt's arm, glad to have his freedom of movement back. It took a considerable amount of emotional control not to demand to be reunited with Jim, especially after Hawkeye and Peg caught sight of BJ and wrapped him in their arms, heedless of the stink and filth of captivity clinging to him. To all of them. To her credit, Edna appeared to have anticipated that need as well and was already assisting Elizabeth up the stairs to the house.

O'Reilly carried a tin pail full of soapy water and rags from person to person so that faces and hands could be washed. "We put out bread and jam for breakfast, but there will be ham and fried potatoes and eggs in a bit and--oh!" He caught sight of Gesh where he remained standing in the courtyard. "What is he doing here?"

Spock answered him. "Gesh is a fellow prisoner for reasons I have not been able to discern. He poses no immediate threat."

O'Reilly chewed his lip. "Well, he can't just stand there like a lawn statue." He carried the pail over to Gesh, who predictably ignored him. When he returned, he took a moment to pour a glass of water and spread butter on a thick slice of bread, then stopped again in front of Spock. "Ain't hardly ever seen somebody so far down a hole as that Klingon," he said. "He ought to eat something at least." He hurried over to Gesh, calling back over his shoulder, "And so should you."

Spock sat and accepted a plate holding a slice of bread and jam, musing on the fact that, like McCoy, O'Reilly's accent grew stronger when he was near home or family. From his vantage point, it looked like the young man had convinced Gesh to accept the bread and water, though not to join the rest of them at the table. He returned to sit across from Spock. "You doin' all right?"

"I am in better physical condition than the other prisoners."

"That's not what I asked you and you know it."

"Are the captain and Doctor McCoy present?"

"They're back on Enterprise. I'm guessing you'll want to head up there."

"Indeed. I believe it wisest if I bring General Ridgway, Queen Elizabeth, and Secretary Malenkov, each of whom requires medical assessment, along with Gesh, who can be better secured there."

"We ought to send BJ up too for his arm."

"So we shall. It would be best to allow him some time with Hawkeye and his wife and child."

O'Reilly made a face. "Mrs. Hunnicutt's not doin' so hot. She won't hardly look at Erin."

"Understood. If I had offered to assist sooner, she would not have found herself in such regrettable circumstances. I, therefore, bear some responsibility for her grief."

O'Reilly shook his head. "You couldn't of known."

"I could have and should have."

O'Reilly's jacket beeped. He fumbled in the pocket and retrieved a communicator. "O'Reilly here."

"It's Lieutenant Uhura. Tell me, did the prisoners get dropped off at your place?"

"Sure did. Mr. Spock's right here. He'd sure love to get home."

"Put him on."

O'Reilly handed him the communicator. "Spock here. I will be returning to the ship with General Ridgway, Queen Elizabeth, Secretary Malenkov, and a Klingon who was imprisoned with us."

"Understood. We'll have security on standby. Let us know when you've gathered your people."

Fifteen minutes later Queen Elizabeth returned wearing a faded but clean pink housedress. Gesh never moved from his place in the yard. They assembled near him and Spock sent the signal for transport.

The look in Jim's eyes when Spock swung down off the transport pad was the most beautiful thing he had seen in a very long time. Jim held out his hand and Spock returned the _ozh'esta_ awkwardly around his crutches, his bond mate's relief pouring into him like liquid summer. Jim took Spock's face in his hands and, heedless of their audience or the state of Spock's oral hygiene, kissed him deeply, then gripped his shoulders. "We've got an hour before I need to get back to the negotiations. I'll help you get cleaned up."

Spock suspected Jim's help was likely to make the process of cleaning up take longer than it would have had he managed it alone, but given they had an hour, he was willing to make the sacrifice.

*

Peg sat next to Hawkeye on her bed, both of them with their eyes fixed on the closed bathroom door. BJ had been offered the third shower, so they'd barely gotten to do more than sit on either side of him at the table while he shoved bread and jam into his mouth as if it were going out of style before he ran up the stairs. She didn't blame him and frankly, she'd rather he got the smell of alien space prison off him as soon as he could.

Hawkeye's hand crept closer to hers until their fingers just touched where they both were clutching the edge of the bed. "Almost two weeks in that place. I can't imagine."

"What was it like?" Peg asked with a tremor in her voice.

Hawkeye looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know if I should tell you."

Images from World War Two newsreels and movies ran through her head in black and white. "I doubt it could be worse than I'm imagining."

"It could," he insisted.

Peg chewed nervously on her bottom lip. "Do you think he hates me?" she asked.

"It sure didn't look like it when he was kissing you. Why would he hate you?"

Peg's breath caught in her throat. "You know why."

The bathroom door opened and BJ stepped out barefoot in the Army undershirt and shorts he'd brought with him from Korea. The sudden shock of seeing him over, she hung back and let Hawkeye greet him first. Hawkeye ducked his head so BJ's kiss landed in his dark mop of hair. "Peg? What's wrong?" BJ asked, reaching out to pull her toward them both.

She stepped into his embrace, but couldn't relax. BJ led them both to sit down on the bed and took her in his arms while Hawkeye wrapped around him from behind. "Where's Erin?" he asked.

Peg stiffened. Hawkeye answered for her. "She's downstairs with Edna."

BJ mumbled words into her hair. "Peg, are you okay?"

"BJ I almost killed our daughter." Her throat ached with the admission and she swallowed. "I would have, too, if your alien friend hadn't taken her from me."

"You wouldn't have," he said, trying to reassure.

She needed to set the record straight, no matter how much it hurt. "Yes, I would have. I had--my hand--on her little mouth and nose and I was going to--I thought I had to and then it was all for nothing and they took you anyway."

He pulled her closer. "Shhh, shh. It's okay." His nose brushed the top of her head and she couldn't take any more of this undeserved softness. 

She pulled free of his arms. "No. It's not." She pushed her fist against her mouth until she felt teeth. "I'm sorry. I tried, but I just can't. Take care of her. Please." She turned her back on both of them and stumbled down the stairs. Purse in the living room beside the fireplace. She scooped it up. Shoes. Shoes were by the door. She stepped into them, opened the front door and half ran down the front steps to where the car sat on the dirt driveway. She fished in her purse for the keys, not knowing where she was going, not even knowing if there was anywhere to go. Where were they? Lipstick, wallet, handkerchief, compact, there. Her hands grazed rough metal and she jammed the key into the starter and turned it, scrubbing at her eyes with her sleeve so she could see to back out.

Nothing. The car didn't make a sound. She slammed the steering wheel with her palms, shoved open the car door and slammed it behind her, then kicked the car until her shoes fell off and she thought she might have broken a toe. Wiry arms wrapped around her from behind and she hopped and struggled. "Let me go. Let me go!"

"Not until I'm sure you won't hurt yourself, Peg." Hawkeye's voice was low and calm in her ear. She struggled against him for another few seconds, then gave up and sagged in his arms. "We're going inside. BJ needs to get up to the ship and you and me and Erin are coming along."

"You all go. I'll stay here."

"Somehow I don't believe you, Peg," Hawkeye said, scooping her into his arms bridal style. "BJ has at least a week of regen therapy on that hand and he needs you there with him."

"He needs you," she said, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice.

Hawkeye hefted her in his arms when he reached the porch steps. "He needs both of us. And Erin. We're his family."

He didn't set her down until they reached the guest room where BJ was sitting with Erin on his lap. Once he did, he pulled a little black and gold device out of his pocket, opened it, and said. "Hey, that you, Pavel?"

"It is, Dr. Pierce. Are you all ready?"

"That we are."

"I will transmit your coordinates to Nightingale."

Peg's vision grew hazy sparkles and her limbs tingled. There was a second of swooping vertigo like she was riding in an elevator, and then she was in a small white room. A woman in white scrubs was waiting for them. Peg blinked and stomped away the prickles and dizziness.

Hawkeye took Erin from BJ. "Lead on, nurse!"

"Doctor," she corrected. "Dr. Hunnicutt, you're scheduled for inpatient neuroregen and physical therapy. Nurse Saffai will take you there." She indicated a tall, slender young man standing by the door. BJ pulled her in for a quick hug and jogged to catch up with the nurse.

"Dr. Pierce and Mrs. Hunnicutt, right this way." Peg followed though she kept looking over her shoulder to where BJ had disappeared.

The three of them were ushered into a blandly cheery room decorated with fresh flowers and woven wall hangings. The doctor gestured to chairs and Peg sat, feeling somewhat suspicious. "Are we filling out paperwork for BJ?" she asked.

The doctor smiled. "We find, after a traumatic event, it's best to work through stress reactions as soon as possible in order to prevent long term effects. You were recommended for modified inpatient therapy by a," she looked down at the silvery screen in her hands, "Geoffrey M'Benga."

Peg glared at Hawkeye. "This is your doing! I'm not crazy. I don't need to go to a mental hospital!"

The doctor interrupted her tirade in a gentle, but firm voice. "Mrs. Hunnicutt."

Peg stood. "I want to go home. This was not what I signed up for."

"Mrs. Hunnicutt."

"Do I have any rights here or am I being railroaded?" She swallowed. She didn't want to be institutionalized for who knew how long. A part of her whispered that it was exactly what she deserved.

"Mrs. Hunnicutt. If you decline treatment after listening to what it will entail you are of course free to go."

"I'd like to leave now."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hunnicutt, your actions of earlier today, combined with Dr. Pierce's and my observation of your emotional state allow me to place a four hour hold. You will listen to the offered treatment regimen, visit with your husband, and if you wish Commander Spock, who is also undergoing treatment in Orthopedics. You will take lunch in the mess hall and meet with me again at 1300 hours to give me your decision."

"That's six hours," Peg said, knowing she was being petty.

"I take lunch at 1200 hours as well. I hope you will humor me. Now, perhaps I should introduce myself?"

Peg waved a hand in defeat.

"I am Doctor Hati Kalsa. I have been serving as a psychological counselor here on the Nightingale for eight years and I have worked with many emotional trauma patients. There is no shame in needing help recovering after an experience like yours. In the interest of full disclosure, I am not human, but Argelian, and compared to human norms empathic, though no more so than some humans." Her gaze tracked to Hawkeye, who turned to Peg with a bewildered shrug.

Dr. Kalsa continued. "Our current plan is for you to attend individual and group therapy sessions during the day for five days. You may retire to private quarters on the Nightingale or share with your friend, who has offered to look after your daughter during the course of your treatment. The goal for treatment is for you to resume primary care for Erin and develop strategies for managing feelings of guilt and intrusive thoughts that may occur while you do so. In addition, your presence on the ship will give you the opportunity to visit your husband during his regenerative therapy."

Peg wrinkled her nose. The words "resume primary care for your daughter" had sent a jolt of fear and nausea shooting through her chest. She drummed her fingers on the armrests of her chair. It didn't sound like she was being committed, though, and she knew women had been for much less. "That's not as bad as I thought," she said, by way of an olive branch.

"I don't want you to decide until after lunch."

I'll decide what I want to decide when I want to decide it, Peg thought defiantly but forced a polite smile onto her face. "May I see my husband, please?"

"Of course. I'll call for an orderly to take you three to orthopedics."

She led them back out to a wide corridor. The orderly, a tall, thin, blue man with antennae she couldn't keep from staring at, spoke briefly with Dr. Kalsa, then led Hawkeye and Peg through the maze of corridors and doors and lifts. The orderly activated the door panel and ushered them into a room with a central control area with rooms arranged around it like the petals of a flower, open to the central space but closed off from each other. Another nurse, or someone, she wasn't sure led them into the room where BJ sat, his arm out of its cast and looking withered and pale, the fingers twisted into his palm toward what was left of his wrist. She made herself take deep breaths and not look away.

"Hi honey," he said. She waited for him to say, _It's not as bad as it looks_. He didn't, but he smiled so wide his eyes scrunched up. "I was hoping you'd get here soon. I'd like your opinion on something."

"All right, I'll do the best I can."

"It looks like I've got a couple of choices here. They're saying there's so much tissue damage they won't be able to give me any reasonable function and I'll always have pain. So they want to start over."

"Start over?"

"Chop it off and grow me a new one," he said, clearly enjoying her shocked expression. Beside her, Hawkeye snickered. "Anyway," BJ went on, "Growing a new one will take about two and a half weeks, plus physical therapy. Or I can have one manufactured and installed in a couple of days and still, physical therapy after. Spock's decided to go for the prosthetic because it will let him go back to full duty in three weeks instead of three months."

"Okay, but won't it feel different?" Did she want a fake arm touching her?

"I'd think it would. And if anything went wrong with it after these folks leave I'd be out an arm. But regrowing it means I have to be out for three days until the basic structure is laid down. Can't have me accidentally moving and damaging it."

"So I could visit you but you'll be asleep?"

"Yeah."

"BJ they want me to do this intensive all day therapy thing because--because of Erin. I don't know if I can do it without you."

"You'll have Hawkeye."

"I don't know Hawkeye like I know you." She dropped into a chair. Suddenly she felt as though she'd been dropped in ice water. "I don't know anyone like I know you. My friends are gone. Everyone I worked with is gone. My parents--I love my parents but they've got to have enough on their minds already. God, I haven't even been able to get a call through to them." She could feel herself spiraling out of control. "BJ we're homeless!"

And Hawkeye's arm was around her, squeezing just the right amount to hold her together. "None of you are homeless as long as I'm around. Once things calm down, you're all coming to Crabapple Cove. Just until you decide what to do."

"What's your dad going to think about that?"

"I got through last night. He's happy to have all of us."

The nurse stopped by. "Would you mind very much visiting with Commander Spock for a minute? We're about to start the neural mapping for his prosthesis."

"Oh, sure," she said, letting Hawkeye guide her across the room to the cubicle where the alien lay in a patient's gown, the head of his bed raised so he could converse easily.

"Mrs. Hunnicutt," he said, formal as always.

"Commander," she acknowledged.

"I wished to apologize for--"

"Stop." Her voice didn't come out as loud or assured as she would have liked, but Spock, to his credit, did stop talking. "I wanted to thank you. For saving my daughter's life."

The commander nodded gravely. "I should have discussed the possibility earlier, as soon as we received the alert. In my concern for my companions, I failed to attend to the certainty that a cold, wet infant would cry. My failure to anticipate such an event caused you significant distress."

"And they found us anyway. Did they hear her?"

"No, we were found one hour and twenty-two minutes later." The nurse appeared at Spock's bedside, looking impatient. "It would appear that my reprieve is at an end. I would welcome a visit tomorrow if you are available."

"I was planning to come see BJ--though he won't know if I do."

"If all goes well, I am likely to be awake and able to speak to visitors tomorrow afternoon. I am certain he will appreciate your effort, even if he is unaware of it at the time."

"You're sweet," she said, and almost patted him on the knee before Hawkeye caught her hand. "Well, I guess I ought to go." She ran back across the hub to BJ's bed to plant a sloppy kiss on his lips.

He grinned. "I can't wait to try out my new hand later." The look on his face told her exactly how he planned to try it out, and she was unable to stifle a small smile. "I love you, Peggy," he said more seriously. "I'll see you soon. And Hawkeye, take good care of my wife."

"I will."

*

Leonard sat at the head of the biobed with one leg stretched out and the other tucked up close to his body with his fingers laced around the knee. Margaret perched at the other end of the bed, mirroring his posture, one stocking foot pushed up against his ankle. "I don't get it," she was saying, "The Klingons used that mind sifter thing on me too and all I got was a nasty headache. Why are you stuck in a biobed?"

"M'Benga won't let me leave until my scans look better." He looked into her face, frowning. "Wait, they put you in that thing? I don't care if they are twice my size, I'll--"

"I'm pretty sure the Klingons who captured us are dead. And I'm okay, really. Dr. M'Benga checked all of us out thoroughly." She gave his foot a squeeze.

"You having any bad dreams?"

She shrugged. "You?"

"Every time I try to sleep. I know it's how the brain works through trauma, but that doesn't mean I have to like it." He'd rather be in his own quarters, but to be fair to his colleague, M'Benga was right. Bad dreams were one thing, but the stubbornly persisting absence seizures did warrant holding him another day or two.

Margaret lowered her voice. "Korea's given me enough cause for bad dreams I don't know if I'd notice a few extra thrown in."

Leonard nodded understanding. He had plenty of material to draw from himself. "Jim said he and Potter arranged for you to be assigned to detached duty on the Enterprise. You trying to keep an eye on me?"

She chuckled. "I'd like to put a lot more than my eye on you." She scooted forward on the bed and leaned in for a kiss. Her breath was clean and sweet, her lips soft and almost hesitant against his. "Unless you're not interested."

He rested his forehead against hers. "As I recall I promised you I'd come back for you come hell or high water. Don't you think that means I'm interested?" 

She stopped his mouth with another kiss, then rested her forearms on his shoulders to look in his eyes. "I was just making sure, Doctor," she murmured, the provocative lilt she put on his title making him wish he had been released to his quarters.

"Oh, I'm plenty sure," he teased, "Besides, somebody's got to knock some sense into Starfleet Medical and I'd sure as hell rather not do it alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting so close to the end here!
> 
> One more chapter after this one with actual plot, then an epilogue with a slight time skip.


	4. In which negotiations proceed on several fronts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye, Peg, and BJ begin to come to terms with recent events at the personal level, while Eleanor Roosevelt pieces together a workable solution for Earthtoo.

Gesh stood in his cell, looking out on the empty section of hallway he could see through the forcefield. The cell was small, barely more than twice his height in any dimension with a shelf like bed attached to the back wall, padded and with a small cushion at one end. The cell looked out onto an empty hall separated from him by a nearly invisible force field. There was a toilet at knee height that could be summoned by pressing a panel and which receded into the wall when not in use. Another panel slid upward at intervals to provide him with meals and water. His clothes, soft, simple, and white, reminded him of the garments in which newborn infants were dressed.

He had been asked if he desired reading material or entertainment. He had ignored these and all questions, standing until he could no longer keep his feet from exhaustion, then sleeping until restlessness forced him to stand. On the second day, threatened with force feeding, he began to eat the food provided, which was bland but not noxious. It was rumored that the Federation did not execute prisoners, nor did it keep them in conditions that made it likely they would die.

After five days of this treatment, he understood the brilliance of Federation cruelty. He might have resented his survival more if honor did not demand such repayment for his failures. 

A human woman walked down the corridor toward him, flanked by two of the red shirted Starfleet guards. She wore a style of clothing favored by the humans of Earthtoo, a shirt, jacket and narrow skirt, all in the same shade of light blue. "I am Ambassador Roosevelt of Earthtoo. I am told your name is Gesh, and that you were imprisoned by your own people for sympathizing with mine."

Gesh stared straight ahead.

She turned to the guards. "You may go."

They turned to walk down the corridor, though he had no doubt they would be waiting just out of sight. She pulled up a chair, saying, "I hope you don't mind, I'm not as young as I used to be." She regarded him with open curiosity. "Kor says you're our problem, which at this point makes you mine. From what I can see, which isn't much, you are a strong minded person. Those of my people imprisoned with you stated that they ignored you, but that you made an effort to make yourself useful, taking on the more unpleasant cleaning tasks and remaining near the door as a buffer between the humans and your own people. You assisted in caring for the injured and those tortured by your crewmates."

Gesh considered. This was a strange sort of interrogation. There was no reason he ought to acknowledge her praise, but it stung more than insults would have and he found himself needing to correct her. "There would have been no purpose in seeing them suffer further."

"You could argue there was no purpose in helping an enemy." She waited a couple of minutes while he watched her quietly. "I am aware you have been interrogated by the captain. He tells me you alerted your High Council to the actions of your house against my world."

Gesh felt heavy, but he would not allow himself the luxury of sitting. He was not certain he could lift his feet to walk to the bunk. "House Arok dishonored itself. I dishonored myself."

"By reporting to the authorities?"

"No."

"Then how?"

Gesh steeled himself to speak the words aloud. "Wakod gave the order to torpedo your cities. I could have chosen death rather than obey that order. To do so would have been honorable. To kill the unarmed at a distance is grave dishonor. It ."

She regarded him for several seconds. "Would your refusal have changed anything?"

"The dishonor would be on another's head."

"So, from my world's point of view, no. Waging peace is far more difficult than waging war. I wonder if you are up to the challenge." She turned and walked away, leaving him alone.

*

Hawkeye paced the lounge outside the entrance to the mental health deck, Erin tucked into a pouch on his chest and emitting whistly little baby snores. Peg had met him last night only briefly to let him know she was sleeping on deck. She made the excuse of wanting to watch a holographic color movie, but the way her eyes had skated past Erin and fixed themselves resolutely on the floor had made it clear why she was avoiding going home with him.

A nurse met him outside, just like last time. He felt his shoulders slump. "Dr. Pierce?" she said.

"That would be me," he said. "Are we going home alone again tonight?"

The nurse sat down and patted the spot next to her on the couch. Hawkeye maneuvered himself to a sitting position, putting one hand on Erin's head to keep it from rolling and using the other to keep her legs from being pinched in his lap. "What's up?"

"Peg's going home with the two of you tonight, but I wanted to make sure we were working together, not at odds. Dr. Kalsa wanted to make sure you don't push her. Don't ask her to hold Erin or even look at her unless she takes the lead."

"Got it. No pushing her to get over everything right away."

"Right. Would you be willing to bring Erin by for a couple of hours tomorrow for a supervised visit?"

"It's not like I have anything else to do," he noted. 

"Catching up on three hundred years of medical advancements not keeping you busy enough?"

"Hitting the books can wait. Peg about ready to go?"

"I'll go get her." The nurse patted his knee and left, returning a few minutes later with Peg, who wore a smile both fake and brave. She glanced at him, at Erin, he suspected, and shied away.

She turned to the nurse. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

The nurse nodded. "Dr. Kalsa wouldn't have recommended you have evenings off if she thought it was a bad idea. Catch an early breakfast with your friend and be here at 0800 hours for group."

"I will." Peg fell into step beside him, her hands stuffed into her pockets and her eyes glued to the floor. While they waited for the elevator, or turbolift they called them now, she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling tiles. "I used to be a confident, self-sufficient woman you know."

"I heard about the accident in Wyoming," Hawkeye responded. "And the thief that broke into your hotel room in Omaha."

Peg choked out a laugh, but her next words were weary and bitter. "That Peg thought she was something. I wish you'd met her."

"I have met her. You're not a different person." The lift doors opened and they stood aside for a moment to allow a pair of pale scrubbed men to pass before stepping inside. It took Hawkeye an awkward couple of seconds to remember that there were neither buttons nor an operator. He cleared his throat a little self consciously. "Ah, Deck seven outpatient quarters. C wing."

The turbolift complied with a faintly ringing hum. "So what's our suite like?" She asked.

"Two rooms. King sized bed in the bedroom, great room with a kitchenette. I put," he gestured with his chin to Erin, "in the great room. So we can have a little privacy."

"King size?"

"BJ will be stuck in orthopedics for a week, but then he's got another ten days at least in rehab here before Dr. Weig is willing to turn him over to 'the local primitives' for physical therapy. Quartermaster thought we'd appreciate a bed big enough for all of us."

"Oh, I was supposed to visit," she said, just as the lift opened on their deck. "We should go back."

"I stopped by earlier. BJ's sleeping like a baby and Spock's been discharged to spend the nights in private quarters."

"Guess I'm lucky. I don't have to teach myself to walk on a robot leg."

They arrived at their assigned quarters. Hawkeye pressed his palm to the biometric lock. He led her inside and waited until the door swished shut behind them to respond. "No, you just have to teach yourself to trust with a broken heart."

She didn't answer him.

"Figured you'd probably want a quiet night in," he continued, mostly to fill the space with words. He felt movement against his chest and looked down. Erin turned her head with an endearing wobble to look up at him. "I picked up chicken alfredo from the mess. It's not bad, even if they put spinach leaves and mushrooms in it to make it healthier."

He pulled their meals out of the warming cabinet and gestured to a chair. Peg sat in front of her plate and picked up her fork, but didn't seem inclined to eat anything. Hawkeye continued to prattle while he tucked Erin into a borrowed baby seat. "Have you gotten a chance to see the Earth from space? I went to the observation deck last night with Erin. She needed to take a walk, get some air. I walked back and forth past that big window for over an hour, just watching the Earth turn below us. View never gets old--or at least it didn't before Erin fell asleep and my feet got tired."

"Hmph," Peg said.

He sat down and tucked into his pasta. The spinach and mushrooms were fresh, grown on the ship, the noodles were only a little softer than properly al dente, and the sauce was rich and creamy. "You should eat something," he said between bites.

Peg nibbled her noodles. Erin squeaked quietly behind her, then moved on to more creative noises, ahhhhs and mmmmms that were clearly intended to get Peg's attention. Peg took a couple more bites and excused herself to the bedroom.

Cue fussing. Hawkeye cleared the plates while the fussing ramped up and pulled a premade bottle from the icebox to put in the warmer. In ten seconds a chime told him to take it out, and he tested it on his wrist even though he'd been told the technology was absolutely failsafe. He dropped onto the small couch and scooped Erin up into his arms. She took the bottle without much trouble, other than at the very end when she decided that her feet were more exciting than the nipple.

Once she was settled into the crook of his arm, he knocked on the bedroom door. "Peg?"

"I was just going to get ready to turn in."

"Peg, it's 1830."

"I don't know what that means," she pouted, though he was all but sure she did.

"Can we come in?"

She didn't say anything for long enough his feet started to get restless. Finally, she opened the door. "I really am tired."

"Trouble sleeping?"

Peg nodded. Erin squirmed in Hawkeye's arms to get a better view of her. She reached out to graze the back of one tiny hand with her finger, sighed, and turned her back on both of them. Erin pushed out her lip in a pout that threatened to become a cry.

He shifted his weight on the bed, stood smoothly, and started to pace the room, swaying, but spoke to Peg, not Erin. "I have these dreams. Not every night, but most nights. I play forward what might have happened if we'd been just a little less lucky. Some nights I lose everyone, one after the other on the operating table. Jim Kirk, Spock, Radar, Bones, BJ...Some nights we get back from Organia and the whole world is on fire. No one left. Some nights I'm in the Klingon ship and Margaret bleeds out in my arms."

"I murder her in my sleep." Peg said, her voice low and flat. "I smother her in her crib. I drop her off bridges. I drown her in the bath." She curled up small. "What kind of monster am I? Do I really want to hurt her?"

"Do you?"

"No, no, of course not." She sniffled. "But I'm afraid. What if someday I do?"

"Have you told Dr. Kalsa about the dreams?"

"Of course not. I'd," she swallowed. "I'd lose her for good. They'd take her, I'm sure of it. And that would kill BJ."

Hawkeye sat back down on the bed beside her. "So you do want to be her mother."

"Of course I do, Hawkeye!" She wiped her face with her palm and absently rubbed the wetness into the coverlet. "I'm just not sure I can trust myself with her."

Hawkeye flipped Erin around on his lap so she faced Peg. "Can't hurt her with a little peek a boo."

Peg's face softened. Her hands were knotted tight in her lap, but she opened her eyes wide, put on a smile that seemed to fool Erin, and leaned her face in close. "A---boo!"

Erin smiled. She did it again and Erin responded with a gummy grin. A couple more times and the baby was chortling and waving her arms with delight.

When the game ended, Erin having managed to capture her foot again for intensive study, Hawkeye said, "I think you should tell Dr. Kalsa."

"I don't know. It seems like an awfully big risk to take."

"I think it's a risk worth taking. For your peace of mind."

"I'll think about it." She stood and stretched. "But now I think I'll take a shower and head off to bed. I haven't showered since we left Ottumwa."

Hawkeye winced and caught her elbow with his free hand. "About those showers..."

*

Leonard stood outside Margaret's temporary quarters on the Enterprise, wearing a suit from Earthtoo in pale gray and holding a giant bouquet of flowers from the arboretum, arranged by Sulu so they actually looked attractive. He hit the door panel. "Who is it?" Margaret said.

"It's Leonard."

"Come in," she replied then, and the door obligingly opened. She was wearing a filmy pink thing that made him reconsider his plans for the evening. "When did they release you?" she asked while taking the flowers from him. and setting them, vase and all, on her desk.

"This morning. I had a few things to arrange before I could get back." He tugged at his tie. "These clothes are not exactly comfortable. How do you manage to wear them all day?"

"I don't wear those clothes. And I think you look handsome in it." Her grin turned sly and she wrapped her arms around his waist. "But if you're so uncomfortable, why not take it off?"

Leonard chided, "All in good time, Margaret. I have reservations for us at a very nice restaurant in Sydney."

She chuckled into his neck. "I suppose I should find something nice to wear."

"Well, I'm pretty sure what you've got on would draw stares in 1951 Sidney, Australia. Also, if I'm not mistaken it's winter there."

She flicked through her closet, which she'd been filling for the last couple of weeks. "This one." She pulled out a powder blue dress with a floating skirt and a low neckline. "I think it will pass muster. Why Sydney?"

McCoy sobered. "Australia is in better shape than most of the rest of the world. I tried to get us in at the Opera House, but that didn't quite work out.", 

"Why?" she asked, curious, though she didn't actually relish an evening at the opera.

"It doesn't exist yet."

She slipped into the bathroom to change, leaving him alone in the room. She'd clearly been busy while he was gone. The shelf above the bed was decorated with bottles and jewelry boxes. A holoframe holding a picture of Leonard he knew belonged to Jim sat on the bedside table. She'd even managed to get someone to put up a few pictures. She clearly intended to stay, but he still had to worry. Once the shine wore off, would she be able to accept his world? Could she accept an America that was in five pieces and patriotism that extended primarily to football? Could she accept that, while their execution had been undeniably awful, the Soviet and Chinese criticisms of capitalism hadn't been entirely wrongheaded?

Would they spend the next fifty years of their lives arguing about it?

He kind of hoped so.

*

BJ sat propped in the biobed, eating surprisingly good chili con carne and corn bread with his good hand. He'd be stuck in bed for another day before he could be fitted with an immobilizer, but the slight shifts and tugs on the growing arm, while uncomfortable, would spur its development at this stage. Or so he'd been told by the gruff, pig faced orthopedist supervising his recovery. 

The much preferable nurse Elta bustled over to his bed, checking a couple of readouts before saying, "Are you up to visitors?"

"Please."

She left him to return with Hawkeye and Peg, Hawkeye's arm almost possessively around her shoulders, Peg holding Erin in her arms. His little girl was chewing on her hand with drooly gusto. The air whooshed out of him at the sight. He'd put on a good face before they'd put him under, but seeing Peg so shattered when he'd come home had terrified him. She had always been the tougher one, the even keeled one who could persevere through any hardship.

And she hadn't been able to even look at Erin.

Peg's smile was fragile but real. "Hi honey, how's the arm?"

"Good. Itches like crazy." He licked his lips. "Looks like maybe you got around to reading Last of the Mohicans."

Her smile grew shy. "Not cover to cover."

Hawkeye walked around Peg to press his lips delicately to BJ's. BJ swiped his tongue through the sensitive vestibule, earning a soft whine that caught Elta's attention. "Do not get excited and move that arm too much, Hunnicutt!" she admonished.

Hawkeye pulled away, trailing his fingers over BJ's abdomen, dangerously close to the waistband of his pants, then wrapped arms back around Peg and kissed her as thoroughly as he could while her arms were encumbered with baby. She giggled. "You are such a showboat."

BJ tucked his hand behind his head and smiled with just a hint of a leer. "And what a show it is." He knew they were all performing for each other, trying to create a sense that what was going on among them was normal, wasn't going to fall apart into jealousy and misery. "Tomorrow they let me out of bed. And if I progress well in physical therapy I can go home in another week."

"We can go home," Hawkeye said. "My Dad's got a place ready for all of us. I'm sure it will be colder than you're used to. The house is back in the woods a bit, away from prying eyes, but near the ocean."

"In case you want to try nudism?" BJ suggested.

Erin's squeaking turned the corner into fussing and Peg turned abruptly to Hawkeye. "Take her," she said urgently.

Hawkeye shook his head firmly and took Peg by the shoulders. "What did Hati say?"

"It's only crying."

"Ah, ah, eyes on me." Peg looked up, eyes wide and scared. Erin, probably sensing the tension in her mother's body, started to wail. Hawkeye counted to five, slowly, then scooped Erin into his arms, bouncing gently. Erin was unimpressed. "I'm going to hit the nurse up for teething gel. You two catch up. And Peg,"

"Yeah?"

"You held on a lot longer than last time."

Peg sat down next to BJ and took his good hand, rubbing over the spots where tendon and bone drew lines under the skin. "I missed you."

"I missed you too. I was so worried I almost didn't let them put me out. If Hawkeye hadn't assured me he'd look out for you I wouldn't have."

Peg stiffened. "I'm not a child."

"No, but you've been through so much, and I wasn't there for you."

"Nobody was there for you when you were up there." She jerked her chin at the ceiling, then wrinkled her forehead. "Out here, I guess. I keep forgetting we're in space."

"I had Bones and Spock. I was hardly alone."

She studied his face. "You really care for them, don't you."

"It's war. You find out quick who you can count on. They're good people, all three of them. And Hawkeye, he's the best."

"He's quite a handful," she chuckled. "How do you contain all that energy?"

"Keep him busy. The busier he is, the happier he is. Even if what he's busy doing would wreck a lesser man."

"What a paradox."

BJ pulled her close along the side of the bed. "You keep moving the conversation away from yourself, Peg. How are you really?"

She traced the veins of his arm. "I've been better. I dream about it every night. Only in my dreams, there's no rescue. In my dreams, BJ, every night I murder our daughter in my sleep."

He cursed the fact that his arms were pinned down, one by the immobilizer, the other by the weight of her body. "Put your head on my shoulder, Peg," he resorted to saying.

She nestled into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He put the arm she'd freed around her, breathed in the scent of her hair, and kissed the top of her head. "You are a fantastic mother. I've never doubted that." He rolled his lips and looked up at the ceiling. "We were in mortal danger. All of us. We had no idea how close those Klingons were to the farm, whether they'd shoot us all or just toss a grenade into the cellar. You knew that. Just like I knew that those men, Jim and Spock and Bones, because of their knowledge were one of the best weapons the whole world had against the Klingons. That's why you almost did what you did. And why I did what I did. Because in a war the choices are all awful."

His shirt grew wet from her tears. "But they took you from me anyway. And I didn't know if I was ever going to see you again."

"I know, Peggy, I know."

*

"I cannot agree to any solution that makes us part of an empire that killed fifty million human beings in less than a week!" Truman said, punching a finger into the table.

"This Federation is a communist regime in disguise," Attlee argued. "It is likely little better. Is there no option that leaves us independent?"

"Gentlemen," Eleanor squared her shoulders. "We are arguing as though we are powers on an equal footing with these empires. We are not. If they are, say, China and the United States, we are Korea. If we cannot aid them in finding a solution that begins to repair their relations, then just like Korea, we will have no future except in blood." 

"The Organians have made us unique. A world in which the capacity to commit violence is crippled. This is our power," Svetlana said cautiously.

"The Federation is a source of technological advancement, but their gifts come with strings," Truman noted, tossing the Federation entry documents into the center of the table. "Their commitment to individual rights over all, morality and social stability be damned, not to mention their unashamedly Communist--"

"Socialist," Svetlana corrected. "There is a difference."

"Not one that matters," Attlee grumbled.

Roosevelt dragged the conversation back on track. "The Klingon Empire does not need an intransigent colony to bleed them of their assets. They need an agricultural powerhouse. With Federation technical assistance, we can be that powerhouse and still easily feed our own people better than we ever have before."

"You're suggesting we feed those monsters?"

Svetlana tapped a few keys on her screen and turned it to face the others. Two ragged, blond little girls looked back at them, each surrounded by rubble. "Which of these children is British and which is German?"

"They're not even human!" Attlee protested.

"Some would say the same of the physician who treated your wounds when you were rescued from captivity," Eleanor noted.

"We know what they are like," Attlee insisted.

Svetlana leaned back in her chair a little. "My father was a monster who has killed many millions of my people. Do I inherit his crimes?"

"How can we ensure that these Klingons will keep their word?" Truman asked. "I certainly don't trust Kor."

"Perhaps not. But we may have to trust that the Klingons and the Federation will keep each other in check." Roosevelt turned to Svetlana for confirmation and she nodded. "Very well. We have a counteroffer to draft. Let's get to it."

*

Eleanor held two empires' futures and one planet's survival in her hands. Behind her, the President, the Prime Minister of Great Britain, and the young girl who had been tapped to represent the Soviet Union pinned their hopes on her negotiating skill. Ahead of her, the representatives of those empires awaited her answer. She opened the door to the small conference room where Kor and April waited. "Gentlemen," she said.

"We accept the Klingon Empire's strategic claim to the Earthtoo system. We offer them first rights to build bases on any bodies in the system aside from Earthtoo itself and our moon. In addition, we offer favored trading rights to agricultural products in exchange for raw materials more readily found on other worlds, including heavy metals and dilithium."

April had not yet spoken, but she could see his face growing pale. "We also accept the Federation's offer of Provisional member status and of aid in repairing the damage to the planet's ecology caused by the orbital bombardment and our own industrial activities of the last half century. We propose both empires build their embassies in Geneva and that they commit to ongoing discussions intended to improve their relations. The Organians have made my world unique, let us not squander that uniqueness."

Both men opened their mouths. She held up a hand to stop them from speaking. "Finally, on behalf of the released hostages, we demand the Klingon Gesh be freed from Federation confinement and allowed to serve under UN supervision as a cultural liaison between Earthtoo and the Klingon Empire. We believe this fate serves honor better than any other that could be obtained for him."

They gaped, evidently having forgotten that the lack of advanced technology did not indicate a lack of intelligence. "I'm finished," she prompted. "You can talk now."

April looked like he had been force fed a lemon. "That is--"

"An honorable beginning. Let us examine this proposition in detail, shall we?" Kor finished for him.

Eleanor knew that April had expected her to accept all of the Federation's offers and none of the Empire's. How he thought he was going to make that happen without bringing about a war that could well end both the Federation and the Klingon Empire's ability to roam the galaxy was beyond her understanding. "Ambassador April?" she prompted.

He rested his palms flat on the table, took a deep breath, and said, "All right, let's make this happen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left--then there will be a short hiatus before the next season, which at present is scheduled to begin Sunday, October 11th.
> 
> Last chance to ask for particular scenes or characters!


	5. In which we try on new lives to see if they fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conclusion. The Enterprise crew and the former 4077th begin to move on from the past and look ahead to whatever may come next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so many things to try to get into this chapter and I did end up not being able to touch on everyone and everything I wanted to. (Sorry, potential Pavlana fans, I'll have put their romance into a separate work one of these days.)

Margaret stood on the bridge of the impossible starship, watching the Earth turn on the viewscreen dominating the front of the room. The air still felt a little too clean, the lack of any other odors strengthening the scent of soap and the even fainter scent of musk coming off Leonard where he stood beside her. No strong scents on shipboard was the rule, there to protect the allergic and the lifespan of the air recyclers. She knew for a fact some of the other nurses dispensed with that rule when off duty.

Leonard bumped the back of her hand. She turned it over and laced her fingers with his. 

Kirk sat upright and relaxed in the center seat, as though he had always belonged right there. "Mr. Sulu, take us out, quarter impulse," he said. 

The navigator turned a little in his seat to reply, "Taking us out. One-quarter impulse."

And wasn't that quite the thing? In all the patching up and sending back to the front or off to Tokyo or home, they never got to see their patients pick up their lives where they left off. A body that ought by all rights to be underground moving with grace and certainty in its own element--that brought a smile to her face. She gave Leonard's hand a little squeeze and gestured toward the captain with her chin. He nodded and grinned, but bent to whisper in her ear, "He's still kinda scrawny looking."

For a moment, as the ship turned, she could see the gossamer reflective sheets hanging in orbit, turning like tin sunflowers to capture and redirect a few extra rays toward the ground. At this distance, they looked as though the planet had been sprinkled with sequins. It didn't take more than a few seconds for the circle of Earth to shrink to a point, then to be lost in the background stars. 

"Warp Four, Mr. Sulu," the Captain said, and there was a faint almost shudder, the sound and vibration that she'd become so accustomed to shifted a little in her ears and underfoot. 

"Where are we going?" she whispered.

McCoy muttered back, "Second pass survey mission. Going to get a better look at promising planets. Not thrilled to be leaving Spock behind for a month of rehab while Jim goes stir crazy and tries to convince me to let him go traipsing around on planets covered in God only knows what."

"It's only a month," she said.

"Lot can happen in a month, believe you me."

"I heard that," Kirk said, turning around to smirk at them. "Don't you two have anything else you could be doing right now?"

"Well, now," Leonard began, sly honey in his voice.

"Get out of here, both of you!"

* 

The fabled and despised Klingons, bringers of so much death and destruction, had been here, a cause of much suffering on the O'Reilly farm during the Five Day Invasion. They were, in a manner of speaking, back here, he thought, watching the pensive figure standing in the meadow beside the house. Rome had not yet spoken on the existence or nature of nonhuman souls, much less on the specific case of the enemy they were of necessity saddled with for the foreseeable future. Yet he could not believe that a being that sought their own path toward whatever they perceived the good to be could possibly lack a soul.

And his calling was to care for the soul, regardless of the body it occupied. He approached the man cautiously, deliberately scuffing the grass with his feet, so as not to surprise. The Klingon, Gesh, was BJ's invited guest, but he hadn't yet come inside, preferring instead to walk the yard while Charlie Sheep (formerly Charlie Lamb) followed at his heels.

The man turned. He still resembled the hulking figures Mulcahy had seen on the news; heavy brow ridges, an impressive build, slightly pointed teeth, but he had eschewed the metal heavy uniforms of his own people in favor of denim and plaid flannel.

"You do not need to try to 'cheer me up,'", the Klingon said. He turned his face back to the evergreen windbreak at the edge of the O'Reilly property.

"No. I suppose not." He took up a position more or less "at ease" beside Gesh. BJ wanted you here for a reason. He didn't say what."

"I am supposed to learn about his culture." He turned his face upward, apparently considering a cloud that was rapidly building into an impressive thunderhead.

"What does he hope to accomplish?"

"I don't know. I don't know what purpose a cultural liaison is supposed to serve." The Klingon bit off the words, as though they were themselves a cruel joke. "I have been taught that life has no purpose without battle."

"Is that what you believe?"

"How else is the soul honed to perfection?"

"Maybe you need to expand your definition of battle." He gestured toward the small gathering on the front porch. "It's going to rain. You ought to get acquainted before we're all crammed in the house together, don't you think?"

Mulcahy turned back toward the house, half expecting the Klingon to remain behind. Instead, footsteps rustled just behind him in the uncut grass. Potter, Sidney, and Hawkeye were playing horseshoes in front of the house. "Mind if we join you?" Mulcahy said.

Sidney looked at the ground almost immediately. "I'm out," he said. He walked away without another word. Gesh stared after him, fist clenching and unclenching at his side. 

Mulcahy picked up a couple of horseshoes and pointed Gesh to a spot where he wasn't likely to be hit by a wild toss. He waited for Potter to take his turn, then pulled him aside while Hawkeye threw his shoes. "How is Sidney?"

Potter's mouth was grim and tight around his cigar. "I've never seen him like this before. I wouldn't have pegged him for a man given to bitterness. Anger, sure. But this is different."

Mulcahy watched Sidney stride hurriedly away from the group with his head down and his hands jammed in his pockets. "It's been three months. I think it would take longer than that to grieve for everything you ever cared about."

"Gesh isn't the one who murdered Sid's family."

Hawkeye handed a set of horseshoes to the Klingon, who hefted the first shoe as though testing its weight. The first went long, but the other three were perfect ringers.

Mulcahy took his turn but missed all but one. Gesh turned away from the game. Mulcahy kept pace with him as he walked around the house.

"I am not in need of supervision," he said.

"Charlie seems to disagree." He nodded toward the sheep, still browsing a few feet from the two of them. "People look at you and all they see is what your people did to them."

"What I did to them."

"You're not the one who killed Sidney's family."

Gesh stopped outside the back door. "You don't know that. Where were they?"

"New York."

"Then you are correct. I am responsible for the deaths of Captain Hunnicutt's parents, though." He tensed slightly beside Mulcahy.

"What do you mean?"

"I was manning the weapons station when Wakod issued the order to use photon torpedoes on ground based targets. Even the Romulans do not use such dishonorable tactics. I have committed the names of the cities I destroyed to memory. San Francisco, Manchester, Stalingrad, Shanghai."

"So this is your penance."

"I do what I must."

"Well, if you must do it, I suppose you ought to do it instead of standing out here alone."

*

The mudroom door slammed behind Sidney. He raised his head, the fingers of his right hand still curled up near his chin. Edna sat at the kitchen table with Sherman's Mildred and Hawkeye's father Daniel, who was flirting amiably with O'Reilly's mother. He became aware of a certain resentment toward their relaxed postures and easy conversation, made an attempt to note it, but wasn't able to set it aside enough to be decent company so he moved on to the living room. O'Reilly and Klinger were sitting with a Korean aid worker Klinger had met at the camp south of Tokyo. They'd been inseparable within days. Sidney suspected their accelerated romance was a coping mechanism and worried that it wasn't healthy, but he hadn't pulled them aside to talk to them about it. He couldn't be sure, through the haze of his own grief, whether his concern was born out of envy for their happiness.

O'Reilly caught at the hem of his jacket as he passed. "Come and sit Dr. Freedman," he said, scooting over on the couch to make room. Sidney folded himself up to fit, leaving a little space between himself and the corporal.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good company today," Sidney said.

O'Reilly shook his head as if to dismiss his apology. "You staying for poker later?"

Sidney rubbed his hands over his face. "I am. Doctor's orders. You playing?"

O'Reilly ducked his head. "Nah, I gave it up." 

That was a little surprising, given how much he seemed to enjoy their games back in Korea--and how much he tended to win. "Miss it?" 

O'Reilly shrugged. "Nothing for it. I oughtna been playing in the first place. They reassign you yet?"

"I'm in upstate New York helping relocate survivors." He hadn't seen patients since the war ended. He wasn't fit for it. He sat at a desk in a borrowed office in Ithaca, matching East Coast families with room to spare with displaced people from the city. It kept him out of trouble, but it also kept him more isolated than was probably healthy. His only real entertainment was watching the brilliant college aged couple serving as his administrative assistants. He reminded himself to see about getting young Ruthie an internship with the Federation reps next summer. 

O'Reilly was still watching him. "I feel like I ought to ask you if you're doing okay, but."

"But you know I'm not," Sidney finished for him.

Klinger interjected, "I can tell you're not and I'm no psychic."

"That obvious am I?" 

Klinger nodded. He chucked his chin at Hawkeye and BJ, who were both on the floor, scrupulously not touching, but gazing at each other with naked adoration. BJ's wife, as little and blonde as advertised, was propped against his chest with her feet tucked under Hawkeye's behind in a gesture that might be mistaken for platonic if one were sufficiently naive. "Hey Hawkeye, you in for poker tonight?" Klinger asked.

Hawkeye resettled Erin on his lap. "With bells on. Room for all three of us?"

"Of course!"

"Sure you won't feel left out, Radar?" Klinger said.

O'Reilly laughed. "I get to hold the baby while they play."

A spark of amusement broke through Sidney's gloom at that and he caught himself smiling. The conversation drifting in from the kitchen got a bit louder, more voices joining into it, punctuated by a wave of laughter. He raised his head, and standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room were Mulcahy and the Klingon. He hated himself for the wave of anger that bored its way up through his chest, and he hated the Klingon standing there in human clothes for invading what should have been a chance for them all to heal. Beside him, he heard a huff of escaping breath and felt O'Reilly flinch beside him.

He stood and took a couple of steps toward the Klingon, telling himself it was to spare O'Reilly distress. "I don't know why you thought you should be here," Sidney said quietly. His fingers worked against his palms, wanting to make fists.

The creature shook his head. "Dr. Hunnicutt wanted me here. He said I needed to meet humans who aren't generals or presidents."

Sidney turned back to Hunnicutt, his tone still soft, though the individual words came out sharpened and clipped. "What could possibly have made you think that was a good idea?"

"Sidney, who do you think Gesh is to me?" He extricated himself from his wife and stood.

"Stockholm syndrome, frankly. You got friendly with your captors."

"Sidney, he's a teenager under a death sentence from the Empire. He's no more your personal enemy than any of those North Korean kids Hawk and I sewed back together."

Sidney made himself look. The Klingon, after a moment in which his eyes flicked down at the floor, met his steadily. He did nothing but breathe, and Sidney did the same. Age was a hard thing to determine--the brow ridges and heavy bone structure made the young man look older, as did his impressive physique. Not human. Not human, but no more inhuman than any other foot soldier in any war throughout history. "I see you've made our chaplain's acquaintance," he said, forcing himself to keep his voice neutral.

Gesh nodded curtly.

"Listen to him. He's a wiser man than I am, and stronger than he looks."

Mulcahy quirked a smile. "You flatter me."

Sidney put on a smile. "I've seen you box." 

He found he had to turn away after that, but heard as the two walked away, "What does he mean you box?"

*

Thunder rolled lazily across the darkening sky. The air had an unseasonable chill, as though it were mid April rather than August, but they'd dodged the bullet of frost so far and the crops in the ground grew, if a little more slowly than in other years. Walter sat on top of the hen house, listening to the rustling of corn that wasn't quite as tall as he was yet. His imagination hadn't quite done it justice, the way the green fronds moved in unison, whipping back and forth as the wind rose, the sense of bigness as he focused on a horizon that stretched out for what seemed like forever. Not forever, he corrected himself. A mile, maybe two.

Threads of the possible, choices and consequences stretched out behind his eyes. He could have a quiet life here, or the illusion of it while the world raced forward around him and maybe, just maybe everyone slowly forgot who he was and the part he and Hawkeye, Klinger, and the Major had in saving it--or ruining it, depending on who you asked. 

Lightning flashed, leaving its mark in a green afterimage across his eyes. The rain, startled awake by the sharp crack of thunder, started all at once, drenching Radar's overalls, running down over his hair and face. He'd never seen clearly into the rain before, the way it harassed the corn plants and made puddles with roiling surfaces like pots boiling on the stove. Used to be that by the time a good rain got going his glasses were covered with droplets and if he took them off, the world went vague and fuzzy. Used to be blind as a bat without those glasses. He wasn't sure he didn't miss them. A little.

He slid to the ground. The storm center was too close for him to be safe up so high. Ma stood on the back porch shaking her head at a son who didn't know enough to come in out of the rain. She crossed her arms and shook her head when he reached the back door, so he stood beside her, dripping on the whitewashed porch rather than on the kitchen floor. "You're going," she said.

"I don't have to," he offered.

"You do."

He shuffled his feet on the pine boards. His sigh puffed out his cheeks. "You said don't run until you know you're running toward something and not just away. Here I'll always be Walt, slow and a little tetched, who everyone thought was a good boy until he cheated and dropped out of high school."

"I don't think it's as bad as all that."

He wiped a hand down his face to get the tickling drips off. "Maybe not. What if I can't cut it, Ma? If I try and fail--"

"Then you'll have tried. And in trying you'll have learned so much more than you could ever learn here. You told me yourself, we are so lucky to be alive at all right now, much less free to worry over our futures. Question is, son, what is the best use of the windfall?"

"You won't miss me?"

"'Course I'll miss you. Every day. It's not your job to stay a child forever just so I won't have to spend some time alone. You won't be going for another what? Five months? Crops will be in by then and you'll have plenty of time to teach me how to use one of those fancy little televisions so we can talk almost like it's in person."

Thunder rolled, long and low and homely. He let it have its say, then turned back toward her. "Can you imagine, Ma? There's people out there. People that plant crops and tell stories and miss their families. People like us, even if they don't look like us." 

"People like us," his Ma echoed, catching his emphasis.

He shrugged. "Yeah."

She watched him with that look he only ever got from his Ma. "I would like to give my youngest son a hug if he doesn't mind."

"I'll get you soaking wet, Ma."

At her exaggerated pout, he threw out his arms and she pulled him toward her, squeezing him almost as tight as she had when he'd left for basic training a million years ago. She'd always been proud of him, regardless of his having earned it, but it was nice to feel it again along with the love and worry that he knew would always be there. She stepped back, shaking her now sodden skirt. "You were right of course." She held out her arm for him to take.

Puzzled, he took it. "It's been a long time since I took a walk in a summer rainstorm," she said. "I think it's high time I got back in the habit." Walter wondered for a moment if his mother had finally lost her mind. "I heard that, young man," she said. "Humor your mother."

He walked with her back into the cool rain. "Now, about this Lieutenant Commander Uhura. She's the person sponsoring you into this Academy, right? What's she like?"

Walter sighed. "She's thirty, she outranks me by a mile, and she's seeing the Chief Engineer who has a scary right cross, so you can stop right there." He grinned. "Anyway, she's leaving me with a bunch of manuals on the kinda radios they're using now and found me a bunch of language programs. If I'm going into communications I have to know at least four languages just to start. Four!"

His Ma chuckled beside him. The rain rolled off their faces and weighed down their clothes. It poured out of the gutters and ran in miniature streams across the yard and down to the road. Seized with a giddy madness, he half-dragged her, stomping, toward the deep, wide puddles shining in the low parts of the meadow. She pulled off her shoes and tucked them into her apron, following him into the calf deep water. Encouraged by her crinkle-eyed smile, he swept a hand down and pushed the water up and over her. She stared in mock-offense, then ducked down to splash him back.

The back door slammed loud enough to be heard through the rain. Daniel Pierce led the way, with his son and Klinger behind him. BJ and Peg followed not far behind. Pierce announced his intentions by aiming a tremendous splash right at his Ma so Walter had to defend her honor by returning the favor. His own splash caught Hawkeye, who charged forward and rudely tackled him.

Walter rolled to sit, but didn't bother getting up the rest of the way before sweeping an arm through the water at Hawkeye. He'd sat up facing the house so he could see the Colonel and his wife standing under the shelter of the front porch roof, a blanketed bundle in Mildred's arms. Colonel Potter was near doubled over laughing, while Gesh and Charlie stood beside both of them looking puzzled. Walter felt like he weighed nothing, like he could float up into the trees like a bubble, buoyed on the joy around him that was so intense it was nearly manic. It didn't feel real, but like a release of pressure, a moment of brightness before they would all have to come down to Earth and get back to the hard work of remaking the world. It was still the best he'd felt in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends the longest coherent work I have ever written. (Ends being a relative term, given I've already got parts of "Season 2" written.
> 
> Thank you all for coming with me on this crazy trip. Also I wanted to make couple things abundantly clear: Yes, please, you are welcome to make podcasts, make art, write more fic in this 'verse...I'd love to see it. (If you want me to be more likely to see it, tag it with "Meatballverse").
> 
> I hope some of you will join me for Season 2, starting I hope October 10th. It's a very different kind of fic than this one, more Star Trek than MASH and chock full of OCs, while still giving Radar, Margaret, Jim, Spock, Bones, Sulu, and Uhura considerable "screen time". Other cameos as they fit.


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